


Health to the Company

by LorettaFryingPan



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol, Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 20:20:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13911438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LorettaFryingPan/pseuds/LorettaFryingPan
Summary: Desperate times call for terrible drinks





	Health to the Company

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! After a week of suffering with some hellacious wrist problems, I'm back in the fic-writing saddle. Let's hope I did the girth up right so I don't fall back out.
> 
> This fic was prompted by my good friend Ryan, who asked for "Nott and Molly bonding over drinks, for different reasons". This fic is dedicated to him! Thanks, man, you're an awesome, supportive friend.

If he could have one wish, Molly thought as he sprinted through the woods, it would be to get rid of ranged _fucking_ weapons, javelins in particular. One embedded itself into the tree next to him with a particularly sickening thunk, but Molly didn’t pause to look.

It hadn’t started so terribly, really. At outset, it seemed like it was a quick get in, deal-with-the-nest-of-beasties, get out, get paid situation. But as was becoming business as usual for them, things went wrong rather abruptly. The beasties turned out to be much smarter than had initially been assumed, and armed to boot. Things had gone pear-shaped after that, they had scattered, and now they were attempting to retreat and regroup without getting skewered. There was a crashing in the bushes and Nott crossed his path, spotting him.

“Come on!” He shouted to her, and was just about to say something else when there was another _thunk_ , but this time closer. Much closer.

He heard Nott shout his name and the next instant he was tumbling down, a blinding pain in his right calf.

 _Fucking javelins_.

Distantly, he heard the sound of a crossbow firing once, twice, and a body hitting the dirt. He was scratching at the leaf-littered ground, trying to get purchase to drag himself out of the way, or make himself a harder target to hit, at least. 

“Molly, he’s dead-he’s dead, it’s okay.” Nott dashed over to him, kneeling in front of his face. Lifting himself up onto his elbows, Molly looked into her frightened face. “Just stay right here, I’m gonna make sure no one’s coming.” 

He just nodded, not entirely trusting his voice to hold up. Nott dashed off, and after a moment Molly let himself flop back down onto the ground. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the pain of the javelin stuck in his leg was getting worse. Needing to know how bad it actually was, he turned to see, but craning his neck back to get a better look at the wound turned out to be a mistake.

While he was no stranger to the sight of blood, his own blood no less, there was something peculiarly upsetting about looking back and having visual confirmation for what was actually going on back there.

“Huh,” was all he said, as darkness took his vision.

He woke up to the feeling of someone grabbing his horn and pulling his head up.

“Come on Molly, you gotta stay awake,” he heard Nott pleading with him and she tapped the side of his face, probably gearing up to give him a slap.

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, locking gaze with Nott. “I’m here, I’m with you.”

“Okay, good, good, now we deal with that,” she said, looking around frantically. She seemed to realize something and gently set him back down, digging through her pockets and pulling out a length of rope.

“This is probably gonna hurt,” she began, “and I’m sorry. But we can’t leave this thing in your leg.”

Molly rested his head on his forearms and stared intently at the embroidery on his sleeve. “It probably can’t hurt more than it does now, so do what you need to.”

He felt the rope loop around his leg once, twice, three times, and Nott murmured “I hope so,” and she cinched it so tight he saw stars.

He gasped, nails digging into his forearm, and Nott began apologizing. “Sorry! Sorry! It’s just so you don’t bleed out when I take out the javelin.”

“It’s fine,” he ground out. “Do what you need to.”

He heard her tying the knot-and was briefly amused by the pun-and then she was in front of him again, holding her flask and fidgeting with it.

“Here,” she said, passing it to him. “Just a sip, you’re gonna need it.”

Hauling himself up onto his elbows again, he focused on his reflection in the grimy metal, trying to stave off the tunnel vision. For her own part, Nott checked the tourniquet and planted her little foot on the back of his knee, readying to pull the glorified stick out of his leg. Unscrewing the cap, he held the flask up in an almost-toast and took a bracing sip.

‘Bracing’ wasn’t the right word to describe the actual sensation of the alcohol that hit his tongue. Sensation was the right word, however, since there wasn’t really a taste to speak of. It _burned-_ like fire, like old moonshine, like the worst sort of rotgut they’d ever tried to make at the circus. It didn’t even taste like one particular type of spirit; it was just _burning_.

He almost didn’t notice the yank and the loud sucking sound of Nott pulling the javelin from his leg he was so distracted by it, which may have been the point. Had he not been in such abject pain, he’d have laughed.

“It’s out,” Nott stuttered, kneeling in front of him. “I’ll just bandage it so we can get you to Jester. Just--just keep calm, and don’t pass out.” She pulled the flask out of his hands and took a hearty draft of her own.

Truthfully, now that the javelin was out, he felt much better. He still wasn’t in any condition to walk, and the bleeding definitely needed to be seen to, but he no longer felt on the verge of fainting again.

“I feel like I should tell you the same thing,” he said. Her face was usually a rich green, but her complexion had gone sallow and her long nails tapped an anxious rhythm on the metal of the flask. He tried not to think about what he looked like, and forced a crooked smirk onto his lips to set her a little more at ease. “The medical kit is on my belt, should be some clean bandages in there.”

Nott set the flask back in one of her myriad pockets and set to work. He couldn’t see her, but he could tell she was making an effort to make noise so he could tell where she was.

“How’s it look?” He asked, in as idle a tone as he could.

“Pretty nasty, to be honest. But it should heal just fine once Jester sees to it,” Nott said. Molly could feel her folding up the cuff of his pants, and he appreciated that she didn’t just cut the obstructing fabric off.

There wasn’t a whole lot else to say; field-dressing a wound didn’t make for the best small talk material, but Molly was content to let Nott focus on bandaging his leg.

“Alright, that’s that.” Nott put the kit back on his belt, and rested her hand on his shoulder. “Think you can get up?”

“Only one way to find out,” he replied. Putting his sheathed scimitar under him like a cane, he tried to stand up, a plan that was swiftly thwarted when he couldn’t even bend his knee.

Nott just barely caught him, but she couldn’t hold his weight any better than he could, so they both ended up on the ground. On his back staring up at the canopy, Molly started to laugh. Part of it was caused by the jitters that were setting in after the adrenaline rush of the past few minutes, but most of it was from sheer joy at having survived. He probably sounded a touch hysterical, but Nott joined in and they laughed together for a little bit.

“Well,” he said after the giggles had subsided, “I guess we’ll have to get the others to come to us.”

Nott helped pull him over to a tree so he was sitting up, at least. “You’re right. Hold on, I’ll let them know.”

She pulled out a little coil of copper wire and held it up, making a couple of hand gestures that Molly vaguely recognized. She focused, closing her eyes and muttering, and after a moment sighed and tucked the wire back in one of her many pockets.

“I told Caleb where we are, and that you can’t walk. He’s gonna get the others to come to us once the fight is done.”

He nodded, and patted the patch of ground next to him. “Let’s catch our breath, then.”

She sat down next to him, pulling her flask out.

“What the hell is in that, by the way?” He asked.

Nott shrugged. “Oh, you know, a little of this, a little of that. I keep it topped up with whatever I can get.” She took a casual pull off it, like it wasn’t anything stronger than wine.

She looked him up and down, and seemed to decide that he needed a bit more, and held out the flask. He took it, and took another sip; now that he knew what to expect it went down a sight easier than the last time.

“Next town we get to, you’re pouring that out and I’m buying you some better booze.” She started to say something, and he held up a hand. “No buts. Consider it my thanks.”

She didn’t seem to know what to make of that, and considered it for a moment before smiling brightly at him.

“Thanks, Molly, that’s real nice of you.” She said, leaning into his side. Caleb was usually the only person she would let get so close, although Molly had noticed Jester slowly working her way there. It was...hard to describe, being granted something like this.

He patted her shoulder, and they slipped into silence again. This was a much more comfortable silence, now that he wasn’t bleeding into the dirt.

“How’d you get so good at bandaging wounds?” He asked, because even the most comfortable silence wasn’t one he wanted to sit through.

Nott waved vaguely. “Oh, you know, around.”

“Spent a lot of time patching Caleb up?”

“Yup. Or him patching me up. Sometimes a plan would go wrong, and then there’s a lot of patching needs to happen. Got quite a bit of practice in.”

“I suppose so,” he replied, biting back the curiosity that rose every time one of them alluded to their pasts. This wasn’t the time, when he was still hazy from blood loss and getting hazier from drink.

Nott’s ears perked up, and a second or two later Molly heard the sound of their friends crashing through the woods. Everyone was a little worse for wear but no one seemed too badly injured, and when Jester knelt down next to him there was still magic shimmering around her hands. Nott jumped up and ran to give Caleb a hug, seemingly content that Molly was in good hands. They clucked over each other’s injuries in equal measure, and Molly felt a swell of fondness that wasn’t entirely sardonic at the sight.

“It seems like that was the last of them,” Fjord said, helping Molly up onto his feet once Jester finished healing his leg. It was still sore, but he could stand on it with a bit of help. “We figure we can go back in the morning to see if there’s any loot, and tell the guard what’s happened.”

“Sounds good. I could use a drink.”

And together, they all limped back to town.

 

////\\\\\\\////\\\\\\\////\\\\\\\

 

Back in the tavern things were quiet. Hardly surprising, given how late it was, but at least there was someone at the bar who looked up when they came in. 

“My good sir,” Molly proclaimed, “We have had quite the night and are in need of a nightcap.”

“Not me,” Beau said. Her bloody knuckles and the slouch in her shoulders spoke to her exhaustion. “I’m going to bed, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jester agreed, turning to follow Beau up to their shared room. “Nobody get into any fights till the morning!”

Caleb sat down heavily at the nearest table. “A quick drink sounds like a good idea, actually.”

Fjord nodded, and was turning to go to the bar when Molly caught his elbow. “My treat,” he said. Not one to pass up a free drink, Fjord sat down at the same table Caleb and Nott had settled in to.

It took a bit of maneuvering, but he managed to bring the four drinks back to the table without spilling any. Setting them down, he flopped into his own chair and raised his glass in a toast.

“To flying by the seat of our pants, and winning by the skin of our teeth.”

Caleb huffed a tired laugh, and raised his glass as well. He was visibly singed, and had a nasty looking bruise blooming under his eye, which looked especially bad in the low light of the fire.

Fjord didn’t seem too interested in toasts, but raised his glass gamely nevertheless. For his own part, he was sporting a nasty gash along his arm that had been healed by Jester, but still looked raw.

Nott reached up and clinked her glass with Caleb’s, and all four of them silently drank.

“Will you be alright if we need to travel tomorrow, Mollymauk?” Caleb asked after a couple minutes of restful quiet.

“Should be fine if I can sit in the cart,” he answered. “Nott did a bang-up job patching me up.” Caleb smiled at that, wrapping an arm around Nott’s shoulders and pulling her close.

The conversation gently flowed for a while after that, before Caleb had finished his glass and left to go to bed. Nott gave him a quick hug and he patted her hair, and then there were three at the table.

“So skinny, I don’t know how he drinks so fast,” Fjord muttered, a crooked smile on his face. There wasn’t much left in his glass either, and it wasn’t long before Fjord was bidding the two of them goodnight.

Once Fjord had gone upstairs, Molly turned to Nott. “I haven’t forgotten, by the way. You want to pour out that flask, I’ll fill it up fresh." 

“You sure?” She asked. “It’s a big flask.”

“Completely sure.”

She skittered outside, and came back just as quickly. She pressed the flask into his hands, and even empty it was surprisingly heavy.

Molly stepped back up to the bar, empty flask in hand. “One last request, before we turn in for the evening.” He set the flask on the bar with a dramatic flourish. “How much to fill this with your finest whiskey?" 

The barkeep looked at Molly suspiciously for a moment, then seemed to decide that an ornamented, tattooed tiefling asking for a large flask full of booze wasn’t something he wanted to investigate. “Two gold,” he replied simply, holding his hand out.

“Good man,” Molly said with a wink, passing the coin and the vessel over. When he set it back down in front of Nott, she beamed at him. Her mask was on, so he wasn’t treated to the full sight of her sharp, snaggletoothed grin, but her eyes were crinkled up at the corners.

“Let’s do this again,” Nott said. “But maybe not because we almost died. The next time we’re in a good town?”

“I’d like that,” He replied. They went upstairs to their respective rooms, and Molly found himself hoping that chance came as soon as possible.

 

////\\\\\\\////\\\\\\\////\\\\\\\

 

Things continued on like this for a little while. They would bounce from town to town, doing odd jobs and making money where they could, and invariably spending a good portion of that money in taverns. Molly and Nott would seek out the strongest or most interesting local spirits. They would spend the occasional evening up until the small hours of the morning, talking about all manner of things. It was pleasant, and reminded Molly of the best parts of living at the carnival. Nott was charming and sweet in her own way, and gave teasing just as good as she got. 

“You’re an alchemist, right?” He asked one night, a glass and a half into a particularly impressive bottle of brandy. “You mix all sorts of things?”

“Yeah, a bit,” Nott replied, “Nothing too fancy, though. I can make acid and alchemist’s fire and stuff like that.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Nott, that’s pretty impressive.” He poured out another nip of brandy and left the bottle between them.

“You know anything about distilling?”

Nott just grinned for a bit and sipped her drink, seemingly enjoying keeping him in suspense.

“I might know a thing or two,” she said. “It’s easier than making alchemist’s fire, and twice as fun, I’ll say that much.”

Molly laughed and raised his glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

Things would only get more interesting from here, and Molly looked forward to seeing them.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know that Sam has gone on-record saying that Molly is super shifty and Nott doesn't trust him, but this is the land of fanfic where things can be set in the nebulous time after they come to trust each other but haven't become pals yet.
> 
> I'm on tumblr at lorettafryingpan (my fic blog is djinn-and-djuice), come say hi!
> 
> Last, but certainly not least, a hearty thank you to everyone who comments and kudos, you all really helped me feel better when I felt like garbage.


End file.
